


blue monday

by ghoulfern



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, (not enemy-enemies but you know), Anxiety, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Yearning, antisocial seb, cutiepie sam, starry-eyed farmer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulfern/pseuds/ghoulfern
Summary: There was someone else with him, too, but not exactly.  I watched for a moment more as the smoke curled up and up from its unseen source in the shadow, and I wondered who was so insistent on hiding from me in plain sight.
Relationships: Sebastian/Male Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	blue monday

The sky opened up blue and yawning, vast like I had never seen, as we crested the final hill into little Pelican Town-- my new home. 

The bus pulled to a shuddering halt and I stood from my seat, already grabbing my pack, thrilled for my journey ahead. There was so much that awaited me here, so much to explore. I looked to the bus driver: she was squat and cranky-looking, but her voice was kind as she said to me, “this is it, kiddo." A familiar warmth spread through my chest, and I smiled at her. She smiled back. I wondered if she was one of the people my grandfather had to spoken to me about before, but I could find all that out tomorrow. For now, I needed to get out into the sun-dappled valley and breathe in the sweet air. 

I made my way down the steps, and found that I'd been dropped off within a small outcropping of trees. It was quiet, except for the soft rustling of creatures in the bushes and leaves, little chittering voices back and forth against the summer wind. It had been waiting for me, this place, and I had been waiting for it, too. Perhaps all my life.

I almost didn't notice that someone else was already there to greet me. A boy, blonde and grinning, looking at me as if he already recognized me. He'd been leaning on a tree nearby, talking under his breath, skateboard resting against one leg like a waiting dog. Now, he kicked the board up into one hand and came toward me, all friendliness and ease. He had a kind face, and wickedly bright eyes. Against the backdrop of the sky, cerulean and unceasing, he almost outshone it. 

There was someone else with him, too, but not exactly. I could see what was undoubtedly cigarette smoke rising from somewhere in the shadow of the tree he'd left behind, yet no one revealed themselves to be there. _Strange_. I watched for a moment more as the smoke curled up and up from its unseen source, and I wondered who was so insistent on hiding from me in plain sight. I caught a flicker of a thin silhouette, moving against the darkness, and I blinked, suddenly dazed.

“Hey.” 

My thoughts scrambled and tumbled, then, and I glanced away from the vague hint of the stranger and up, to see that the blonde boy was reaching for my hand. I held it out for him and he took it. Shaking heartily, he introduced himself as _Sam_ , a name that seemed to suit him for how short it was--yet at the same time bouncy, loud, like the crack of a baseball bat. “I'm just here to take ya to the farm,” Sam was saying, his smile miraculously still there and showing no sign of abating. I felt myself wanting to ask if his friend would join us, too, but managed to stop myself. Some need to hide, I knew that as well as anyone, so let them. 

Sam led me out of the little copse of trees where I'd been dropped off, away from the stranger and the bus driver and out onto a well-worn dirt path. I wondered how often my grandfather had traced this exact route over and over again, how many other footprints were intermingled with his own. If I would ever outpace him. 

Soon enough we happened upon a thicket of dense woods, and Sam glanced over his shoulder to meet my eye, his grin perfectly infectious. I couldn't help but laugh at him. “What?” I asked him. He didn't reply, only smiled, and gestured for me to continue following as he began moving forward once more.

He led me carefully through the forest, brushing aside rogue branches for me or mumbling occasionally about an exposed tree root. It struck me then just how well he seemed to know these woods, for he pointed out obstacles every which-way, and leapt gracefully whilst I stumbled. I was so preoccupied with trying to keep up with him that I didn't even notice we had happened upon the farmhouse already. Just as I was about to hop over a log in my way, Sam nudged me with his elbow, making me look up. 

“This is where you're supposed to go, _oh wow_ ,” he said, chuckling, but I didn't really hear him at the time. I just froze.

The house was cloaked in debris and age and neglect, but, oh, it was beautiful. A little cabin, perfectly situated in the middle of the woods. All my own. It was like a fairytale. After all, my grandfather had often told me stories about this place when I was young, painting it in a way that, at the time, had seemed fantastical. Now, it was all too clear to me that he hadn't embellished a single detail. If anything, he had undersold it. 

I was suddenly overcome with emotion at the sight of something I'd only dreamt of all my life. Feeling embarrassed, I turned away, briefly hiding my face from my new friend. No use bursting into tears upon first meeting. Sam hadn't picked up on it, though; I heard him walking away, muttering something to himself. When I turned to look, he was reaching for something, a bit of paper sticking out from under a barrel on the porch. He gently pried it out and held it up to the waning sunlight, squinting.

“It's from your grandpa,” he said by way of explanation, shrugging at me. He jogged back over and handed me the letter. It tingled against my fingertips, something I chalked up to nerves at the time. Though I think in the end, it might have been the magic of that place, finally whispering _hello_ to me.

The handwriting of the letter was one I recognized from countless birthday cards: a soft, loopy scrawl that my mother couldn't ever decode, but I somehow always could. 

_Wait for my return at the dawn of your third year._

“What does that mean?” I said aloud. My voice came out less inquisitive than I felt. It seemed to be a riddle I was capable of answering, yet I didn't know why I felt that way. And I especially didn't know how to begin. 

“Dunno," Sam answered, watching me curiously from his perch on the fence, "but it sure sounds exciting." I could tell from his gleeful smile that he thought this place, and my grandfather, a fairytale, too. 

“No one new has come through here in, like, eight years," he said, after a long moment. He was watching me thoughtfully, that smile still effortlessly in place. I was still staring up at the farmhouse, picturing it without all of its unsightly draping and years of undue wear. I could barely hear him. "Everyone's gonna be so excited to meet you..."

My heart began swelling up with hope. 

I could make this farm into something again. 

I could make myself into something, again. 

* * *

  
The sun had set by the time Sam stood from my table and let out a yawn. We had gone inside for a bit and ended up talking to one another for hours, about our lives and friends and favorite things. It was easy to get lost in conversation with him, now that we'd settled down. I made us tea and prodded him for gossip. He told me about his band, giddy. I kept asking him to tell me more about it, and he would happily oblige until he was almost out of breath. 

_Well, it's just me and Seb right now. Lookin' for a third._ He'd made eyebrows at me then, but I shrugged. Not so musically inclined, I would be no help.

Afterward, I watched through the little front window as Sam disappeared back into the woods, leaving me alone for the first time in my new home. I felt myself wishing he had stayed with me a bit longer. Some of the vibrancy of the place had gone with him, leaving me feeling gray and detached. I felt for the first time as if I had been dropped into the middle of the ocean. Overwhelmed. Suddenly lonely. 

Sleep was the easiest answer; I began getting ready for bed. An altruistic someone had stopped by the cabin before I'd arrived and left snacks for me, a few blankets, a lantern that I lit and left on the table. Its warm glow made me feel safer. I ate one of my provisions, a granola bar, and got into bed. As I laid there, staring up at the ceiling, I wondered where I could possibly begin. 

_One good thing about living here,_ I thought sleepily, fleetingly, my bleary eyes half-focused out the window, _is that the moon peeks in to say goodnight to me_. I noted it down in my head, a solid first discovery, and closed my eyes. 

There must have been something magic in the glow of that moon, for I've never fallen asleep faster, and haven't dozed half as well since. 


End file.
